


Hate

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drama, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-05-16
Updated: 2006-05-16
Packaged: 2019-01-19 20:54:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12417963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: Short one-shot, a glimpse into Narcissa's mind including her thoughts about her sister, husband, son, and even her cousin.





	Hate

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

Note: Just a quick one-shot glimpse into Narcissa Black’s mind around the day Sirius died.

Disclaimer: Yeah like I’d write fanfiction if I was JK.

June, 1999

Sirius died today. Bella told me with a smirk and a toss of that inky hair of hers, cackling as she told me the chain of events. I may harbor affection for my elder sister but her retellings only left me feeling cold, the way her face contorted triumphantly as she gushed about how she destroyed our cousin, and how her dark eyes gleamed when she recalled Potter’s reaction, it made me sick to my stomach. I never could understand Bellatrix’s love of sadism; I hated dirty mudbloods as much as the next respectable woman, but she lusted for the glittering torment that I’m sure glazed her gossamer dreams.

My own sister murdered the last bearer of the family name, the last of the name I used to carry proudly at school, Bella, Meda, and I, we were the Black sisters, girls to fear and worship, and Bella threw that all away. We were powerful, respected, Slytherin women, with more political connections then the minister himself! And then that bloody Ted Tonks came along and ruined everything. Andromeda caused so much shame to the family when she ran away with that disgusting muggle, I remember the day perfectly. 

Mother was lounging on our posh sofa, white wine in a goblet clasped in her whitened hands, weeping, she still looked elegant, grand, Mum always told us that even at her death bed, old and shriveled, she would be more glamorous then her grandchildren. Father was shaking with rage, screaming hexes and expletives as our lovely mansion creaked beneath his fury. Bellatrix was the worst, she looked Andromeda straight in the eye, told her she wasn’t our sister anymore, that she was disgrace, a whore, and even a mudblood, tainted by association, and burnt Meda’s name off the tapestry identical to the one Walburga Black had in her parlor. I hid behind my long, blonde hair in the corner, refusing to meet Meda’s pleading gaze, I would not let her weaken the hate I had spent so much energy retaining, she left the home she was raised in, she left her family, she left me, and never came back. 

Andromeda was always the sensible one and if she was still in the fold she would have given Bellatrix a good shaking. Sirius was a blood traitor, that was true, but he was still the last of the Black bloodline, when stupid, crazy Bella killed him, she killed our family. I trusted that when I married Lucius there would be another male heir to carry on the legacy of the noble and most ancient house of black! But of course Sirius had to run away and poor, dim Regulus had to get himself killed! 

My psychotic, reckless sister destroyed a pure line that went back generations because of her own unbridled malice. Lucius has been unusually quiet since the incident, he says he’s going to be sent to Azkaban, I tell him to stop saying such awful things, and he hits me across my tear streaked face. I cry. He apologizes. We go to bed. 

When he was twenty three and I was sixteen Lucius was so full of life, we had plans, we were going to see the world and eventually control it. He had this burning passion about him that drew me to him like a moth to a flame. I was so star-struck and dazzled by the world he showed me that I would’ve followed him straight to the underworld and not look back, I was Persephone to his Hades, and I loved every moment. Our wedding was perfect; I knew we would be together to the end. Then the Dark Lord began recruiting, Lucius was young and willing to do whatever it took to preserve our blood, and when he spoke to me about his cause with the familiar crackle in his eyes I truly believed that it was worth it, that this life was worth it, so I supported him even when I began noticing his descent into coldness, harshness, his eyes don’t seem warm anymore.

Draco was born while our world was in turmoil, the Potters had defied Voldemort twice already and more mudblood lovers were joining forces against us. Lucius was stressed and haggard but was ecstatic with joy that I was carrying his son, he feared I couldn’t conceive and I worried about the stability of our marriage. I named him Draco in a desperate attempt to preserve the family tradition of naming children after constellations, Regulus had died three months previously and I feared there might not be any more Black’s who would be left to continue the ancient practice. His name was of Dragons and serpents and I knew I was sealing his destiny when he was christened, he would be talented, intelligent, handsome, and a Slytherin.

I relive that dreadful Halloween of 1981 in my nightmares to this day. Lucius apparated at the witching hour, his hair shaggy and his face ashen, he kept screaming, “it’s over! It’s bloody over!” Draco awoke and wailed for me as I tried to pry information from my distressed husband, when he chocked out Lily and James Potter’s names. They were four years older then me and I remembered admiring Lily for bringing Potter down a few pegs, respecting her when she defended Severus and any Slytherin who the elder Gryffindor were abusing, and hating her when she looked at me with such palpable pity. I screamed so loudly that night I’m surprised my lungs didn’t collapse from the effort, I tossed fragile instruments across the marble floor until it was covered with broken objects, collapsed into Lucius’s arms and sobbed.

We don’t discuss that night, Lucius and I, we pretend it never happened, but as I see my son grow and know the horrors he’ll have to face if he becomes a Death Eater, I feel myself wishing Dumbledore’s army would just kill him. Kill goddamn Voldemort and end all of this, end my husband’s hollow goal, and Draco’s sunken eyes, and give this world peace. I used to think the worst possible thing that could happen to my son was getting that Parkinson girl pregnant, now I obsess over the possibility of his death, the thought of his face stone and skin cold. 

What would my mother think of me now, Narcissa Lacerta Black not being able to protect her own child! I am more of a disgrace then Andromeda could ever be; she had a healthy, gifted daughter who probably won’t be killed before she’s thirty!

Bellatrix makes me angry now, I always used to hide behind my big sisters and when Andromeda left Bellatrix took her place as my protector, but I will not stand by and let my sister’s actions destroy _my_ family. A small biting part of me hopes Bella dies in this fight, that she will ail me no longer with her mistakes, but she’s my sister and I love her more then I hate her. 


End file.
